Damned

• Isobel Vatiliotis, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2016

I couldn’t breathe. I choked on the dirt as it filled up my lungs, and my hands clawed desperately at the dirt around me.
I tried to yell, but I had no strength, no air in my lungs, and my head felt as if it were about to explode. I dug upwards, or what I thought was upwards, for what felt like hours, but what couldn’t have been more then a minute.
As my hand broke the surface, relief flooded my body and I took in a huge breath, gagging on the moist soil in my mouth.
I dragged myself out of the ground and lay, panting, shaking, on the cold grass. My eyesight sharpened as I sat up and looked around the dark field, that was filled with rows and rows of graves.
The stench of rotting bodies was thick, and I rolled over, still shaking, and threw up on the decaying headstone of the grave that I had crawled out of.
I stood up, shivering in the cool air, and wiped my mouth on my bare arm, that was covered with blood and bruises, cuts that seemed to be healing, even as I watched, the skin stitching itself back together.
I staggered out of the cemetery, towards the old church.
I placed my hand on the gate that separated the church from the graveyard, and let out a yell of pain, causing some nearby birds to screech and fly from their nests.
My hand blistered as I watched it, the skin peeling away, bloody, only to re-heal seconds later. I gaped at my hand and then at the fence. I reached a tentative finger out again, only to pull it back in pain the second it touched the fence.
I quickly picked up a stick from the floor and manoeuvred it through the handle of the gate, letting it swing open.
What was happening to me?
I walked along the deserted path, past the church and onto the empty street, tears streaming down my face, and an agonising hunger growing in my stomach. I doubled over, my sharp nails tearing at my shirt as I moaned in pain.
I heard a voice.
I looked up, at a small child walking towards me on the path, and my vision sharpened on her neck, where I could see the blood flowing through her veins. I could smell it.
I turned around again and gagged, my empty stomach providing me with nothing to throw up. I turned back to the young girl who had moved closer, and I shut my eyes, trying to block out the thoughts running through my head.
Why was I thinking like this?
I felt a searing pain in my gums, and I could taste the blood in my mouth as my teeth seemed to sharpen.
I looked up, my eyes focusing on the vein in her neck. I was so hungry.
I leapt.
The last thing I remember is a scream.